These Winters

Beta: Aayesha, Ilye

Turgon lifted his head; a smile spread quickly on his face as his golden lover strode into the room he was currently using as an office. The smile faded, though, when he saw the shadows that darkened Glorfindel's usually bright eyes. Glorfindel stopped several steps from Turgon's large desk, and bowed at the waist, but he would not meet his king's gaze. Turgon stood, walked around the massive piece of furniture and held out his arms to Glorfindel, hoping for a proper greeting from the one Elf he had longed to see privately for days. Glorfindel crossed his arms and shook his head, and Turgon let his arms fall to his side, worry creasing his noble brow.

"Do I not warrant at the very least a cursory greeting, Glorfindel, or have you ceased loving me in the few weeks I have not been at your side?" the King asked, an edge to his question. Glorfindel had been his friend since Aman, and his bedmate since Nevrast; never in all that time had the golden Elf been subdued when reunited with Turgon after a period of absence.

Glorfindel's voice was low, defeated, his head still bowed so that his wild mane of gold obscured his features. "I need to speak with you, Turgon, and I am not certain you will desire to take me into your arms once I have confessed my sins to you."

A tendril of dread wound its way around Turgon's heart. "What sins do you speak of, Glorfindel? There is nothing you could do I could ever call a sin! You are the most steadfast of those in this city!" Turgon boasted, his laugh almost hollow sounding to his own ears.

Glorfindel was a tall, broad Elf -- he was a master swordsman, after all, and his body reflected that vocation, but, as he sank into the chair by the desk, he seemed deflated, small. His face was still hidden by a cascade of gold as he shook his head. "Your faith in me is misplaced; I have betrayed you, melethen, more than I would ever want to admit. But, I must tell you, you must know, before you open your arms to me once more."

"Tell me, then, do not draw this out much further, for I do not believe my heart can bear the suspense." Turgon leaned against the desk and waited for Glorfindel to put aside his guilt and to confess whatever deed the younger Elf thought was so treasonous.

The silence stretched out long enough for Turgon to question if Glorfindel would indeed ever speak, but when he drew breath to question his lover, the words began to spill from Glorfindel's lips in a scorching flood, laying waste to Turgon's soul.

"During you short time outside the walls of this city, I took up with another of your captains. I shared my body with him as I share it with you; I laid with him as I lay with you. It did not last more than ten days, but I was at his side each of those ten nights. It ended as quickly as it began, and I have wanted to tell you of my transgression for days, but no time seemed the right time."

Glorfindel's words petered out, but the echo of the admission of guilt rang in Turgon's ears. "Who was it?" he demanded.

Glorfindel shook his head again. "That is not important--"

"Who was it?" Turgon shouted, slamming his hand on the hard wood of his desk. He did not often give into the constant fury that seemed to simmer in his soul since his beloved wife had slid under the Grinding Ice, but he could not hold his temper in check now. "Tell me, Glorfindel, or I will discover who shares your guilt on my own, and I will be certain to demote him from his position," he warned.

The haunted sapphire eyes were finally revealed as Glorfindel raised his head. They swam in pools as teardrops slipped down his pale cheeks, the dark lashes damp and clumped together. Turgon could see that his lover had been crying for some time now, but his hair had hidden the tears. The one name that came from between the glistening pink lips turned Turgon's heart to ice.

"Ecthelion."

Turgon felt Glorfindel's eyes on him, watching his reaction to the name, but Turgon gazed back impassively. His mind flashed on the glorious Lord of the Fountain -- Ecthelion with his dark hair, his stormy eyes, and his love of the sword tamed by his love of music. He had once been a dear friend of Ecthelion's, just as he had with Glorfindel, but Glorfindel had chosen Turgon's bed over Ecthelion's and the friendship between King and Lord had become something else, something bitter.

"Please, forgive me, Turgon. It was poor judgment on my behalf, a loneliness I allowed Ecthelion to ease in me. I am sorry I betrayed you, and it will never happen again. I ended the affair, told him I was yours, that I loved you, and he has agreed to stop seeking my favor." Turgon continued to stare at Glorfindel, his eyes blank and unreadable. "Please, my love, say something," Glorfindel begged quietly.

"It is over?" he asked.

Glorfindel nodded. "It is over. I am sorry it ever began." Turgon still did not move, still said nothing to reassure his lover, and the younger Elf soon left his chair. Turgon watched as Glorfindel, on his knees, crossed the little distance between them, his fair face looking up at his King. The tears continued to slide down his cheeks, his eyes full of misery and self-loathing as he leaned his brow against Turgon's thigh. "Please, beloved, forgive me... please," he whispered on a sob.

The pain in his own heart was mirrored on Glorfindel's face and in his words. Turgon knelt with Glorfindel on the floor, taking his lover's face between his hands, and kissed his salty lips gently. "You have my forgiveness, Glorfindel," he said, his throat tight as Glorfindel gave a loud sob of relief with the words. "Come to bed, my love, and let us wash away this sorrow," he whispered as he gathered Glorfindel into his arms as if he were but a child.

As he entered the adjacent room, lit by a solitary candle, he found little comfort in having Glorfindel in his bed. Forgiveness had been given, but as he stripped them both of their clothing and gathered Glorfindel into his embrace again, he wondered if he had spoken the truth.

Could he truly forgive Glorfindel?

Three weeks he had pondered that question of forgiveness. Three weeks he had watched Glorfindel and Ecthelion carry on as if nothing had passed between them. Three weeks of pretending that he knew nothing of the affair. Glorfindel had initiated conversation after conversation about the affair, wanting to be certain Turgon did forgive him. Turgon continued to give of himself, to give all he had in trying to place the horrible event into the past, but it had been no use.

Every time he took Glorfindel to bed he wondered how Ecthelion had touched the creamy flesh, had kissed the full lips, and delved into the velvet tightness of his body.

He looked around the dark room. The sheets he sat on smelled of Glorfindel, of the spice of his soap. Night had long since come, and Glorfindel still had not returned. Turgon knew the golden Elf-lord was with the dark Elf-lord as he was each night following the guard rotation. And, just as he had each night, Turgon wondered if they were hidden away in some alcove with Glorfindel on his knees and Ecthelion's sex in his mouth, finding release quickly before the King could send others seeking his lost lover.

There was still a part of him that told Turgon that his suspicion was unfounded, that Glorfindel was an Elf of his word, but there was the hurt part of him that could only see Glorfindel as unfaithful. He reclined on the soft mattress, closing his eyes tiredly, but knowing no rest would come to him. No rest for him, not in a bed of lies they had built over the passing month. The mistrust was eating at him, consuming all he had to give, but he could not turn that mistrust aside. It was all he could see, all he could feel. His vision was always clouded with anger and a deep sadness that he could not imagine ever lifting. Fake smiles, hollow moments that left him aching inside, but he could feel that they were both just surrendering to these false lives they had sold to one another that night in his office -- false forgiveness and artificial security.

Turgon stared up at the black ceiling of Glorfindel's room, his hands resting lighting on his belly. Tonight he would speak with Glorfindel about this lie they had been living, because Turgon was not certain he could continue. He had wanted to talk with Glorfindel about how he felt, had almost brought it up several times, but then Glorfindel would gaze at him with those eyes as clear as polished sapphires, radiating love, and the words would die in his throat. Each time, he swore to himself that he *would* trust Glorfindel, he *would* forgive him. The moment those crystal-like eyes turned away from him, though, shifted to Ecthelion's pewter pools and midnight countenance, the fear and doubt would resurface.

Again and again he had to remind himself that he had told Glorfindel it was all right, that everything was as it had been. He had agreed to allow the subject to die, to be buried under newfound love and desire, and he tried. Valar, how he had tried, but he was slowly dying within himself as every day passed, every moment he remained silent another part of himself was lost. While he continued to hold and kiss, touch and love Glorfindel, it was all mechanical in essence. He found little more than physical gratification in their lovemaking. Where once there had been a deep satisfaction in the wake of their release, Turgon only found bitter resentment, and he knew it was due to his hiding of his misgivings.

It was this growing hatred of that which he had once loved above all in Arda that made him decide he had to confront Glorfindel. He did not want the growing hatred to eclipse the love he still felt when he looked upon Glorfindel -- but something had to be done.

In the wake of that decision, Glorfindel entered the room, his face lighting up when he saw his King and lover lying on his bed. "Turgon!" he cried, tossing his equipments and cloak aside carelessly. "What a wonderful surprise," Glorfindel said, and he sat on the edge of the bed, bending to kiss Turgon's lips passionately.

As Glorfindel's tongue slid into his mouth, Turgon briefly thought of protesting, but the scent and warmth of his lover smothered the moment of doubt, and he returned the kisses with fervor. This was a connection that they both needed; it was a link his wounded spirit and aching heart remembered well. The feel of Glorfindel's body beneath him, the sounds of his lover, they were things he could lose himself in, and that was exactly what Turgon did. He wasted no time with foreplay and pleasantries; he wanted to bury himself in Glorfindel's body, and that was what he told Glorfindel he intended to do.

To his delight, Glorfindel complied eagerly. Turgon had not thought Glorfindel would deny him, but it was always a possibility. Tonight, just one more night, Turgon could pretend was all was well and this was another stolen night before duty called them away from each other.

They tugged impatiently at their clothes, desperate for skin to touch skin, though neither could explain where the desperation came from. It did not take long for Turgon turn Glorfindel onto his hands and knees, to dip his head between the well-shaped buttocks and lap at the tiny opening with his tongue. Glorfindel's moans drowned out the sound of the voice in Turgon's head telling him that sex would not fix what was wrong, that nothing really could fix what was wrong. He poured viscous oil over the cleft of Glorfindel's backside, swiftly penetrating his lover with two fingers to spread the oil deep into the hot passage. The other hand he used to smear more oil over the firm flesh of his member, a shuddering sigh the only warning Glorfindel had that Turgon was prepared to take him.

He thrust into Glorfindel in one smooth movement, twin cries echoing through the room as he sank to the hilt in Glorfindel's body. Turgon did not wait for Glorfindel to become accustomed to the intrusion; he set a quick, furious pace. He moved in and out of the younger Elf with ease, smoothly possessing the golden one as he gripped the slender hips. The dark Elf panted and groaned with each push into the clenching passage, and while his body thrummed with the pleasure he felt, his mind remained detached from such enjoyment. His mind spoke to him of another dark Elf whose eyes were just a shade more blue than grey and whose body was broader, stronger than the King's.

Turgon shook his head; he wanted the images of Ecthelion's hands on Glorfindel's body to disappear. He loved Glorfindel with a white-hot passion he had only felt for his wife, and he was not ready to lose it all because of Ecthelion. Manwë help him, his heart would flutter and hurt at the thought of never sharing such intimacy with Glorfindel again, but the constant barrage of visions he had of Ecthelion's hands on Glorfindel made his love into a double-edged blade.

With each plunge into the heated depths of his lover, Turgon's mind drifted further from the pleasure his body felt. His mind whispered questions of whether Ecthelion had taken Glorfindel in this manner: hard, fast, savage. It whispered the possibility that it was Ecthelion Glorfindel imagined impaled him from behind, not Turgon. It whispered that Glorfindel was only with Turgon out of pity, not out of love. With each thought, each scenario, Turgon's hands tightened on Glorfindel's hips; his nails dug deeper into the tender flesh.

He reached around Glorfindel, his mind quieting momentarily to maintain the façade of intense coupling so he could grasp Glorfindel's sex firmly in his hand. Turgon stroked the blond's shaft with practiced precision, rapidly driving Glorfindel toward climax. The King's body tightened with his own impending release, but it was from a distance he noted this. As Glorfindel cried out, spilling his seed over Turgon's fist, Turgon found his own completion deep inside his lover. His mind and body came back together in the wake of orgasm, but there was a hollow sense of satisfaction. Glorfindel collapsed in a panting heap on the bed, tossing his long locks out of his face to gaze up with a sated smile at Turgon.

"Will you stay the night?" Glorfindel asked, holding his hand out to Turgon.

He should have declined. He should have told him that jealousy was eating through his gut. He should have done many things; instead, Turgon curled up behind Glorfindel, and pulled the Elf close to him. Glorfindel sighed contentedly, lacing his fingers through Turgon's that rested across Glorfindel's stomach.

"I love you," Glorfindel mumbled sleepily.

Turgon stared ahead in the night, his eyes wide and rest the farthest thing from him at the moment. "I love you, too," he replied without thinking, but the words were void of the ardor he once had for Glorfindel.

He looked over at the still, sleeping form of Glorfindel.

Sunlight and moonlight. That was Glorfindel. Glittering gold and cold silver. Turgon rested his left forearm on his upraised knee, and turned his gaze from his sleeping lover to the vista the window offered him of Gondolin. Glorfindel's rooms were high, looking out over the city, and the moon was full and bright in the sky, illuminating everything. He sat nude on the wide windowsill, one leg dangling outside the window, and the other raised for his arm to rest upon.

He should not have made love with Glorfindel. It was only delaying the inevitable confrontation they would have. Turgon realized he had never forgiven Glorfindel for going to Ecthelion's bed; he didn't think he ever could. But, he loved Glorfindel so much that he had wanted to believe he could forgive him. Instead, he had merely prolonged the pain he felt, the anger and bitterness. Turgon sighed, fighting the tears stinging his eyes as he reflected on the pathetic end their centuries long relationship had come to.

"Turgon?"

Turgon turned his shimmering eyes to the bedraggled Elf sitting up in the bed. "I am here, Glorfindel," he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears.

Glorfindel stood up from the bed and approached Turgon slowly, his face showing his confusion. "Why are you here? Why did you leave the bed?"

"I cannot sleep there anymore," Turgon answered and turned his blurred gaze back to the city.

"I do not understand," Glorfindel whispered, unsure what was happening with his lover.

Turgon swallowed the lump in his throat. "Ecthelion."

Glorfindel went still beside him. "I thought we had put this to rest, Turgon."

"I cannot!" Turgon burst out angrily. "I do not want to, Glorfindel." He slid from the window, turning the full force of his furious, tired gaze onto Glorfindel. "I do not want to be the one who simply turns his back on this. I cannot do that. It is there, Glorfindel, whether we want it to be or not. The infidelity is always there between us -- at court, in training, in bed. It is always a heavy, wet blanket that threatens to suffocate me.

"I do not feel I belong within our relationship any longer," Turgon said as the first tear escaped his eye. "Everything has changed."

"I said I was sorry," Glorfindel insisted as he reached for Turgon's hand. "I wish I could fully express my sorrow, but this is as good as I am able to do."

Turgon kissed Glorfindel's knuckles, fighting the sob growing in his chest. "I do not believe we are at a point where it is enough to be sorry, melethen," he whispered in the stillness of the room.

"Do not do this," Glorfindel said as he shook his head. "Do not leave me alone in the dark, Turgon." His voice sounded small and frantic.

"The darkness has already closed in, Golden Glorfindel. It snuck up on us while we were trying to pretend it was not there." Turgon sighed and squeezed Glorfindel's hand in his own. "I tried to be more than I could be, and I have given you all of myself. There is nothing more for me to offer you, nothing pure or true. I have given it all away." Glorfindel's tears were silent, and Turgon's own grief threatened to pour from his lips in a soul-shattering sob. "We have already surrendered to the cold of these winters, Glorfindel. We are numb and frightened, but eventually the heart will cease to beat.

"Eventually," Turgon said, releasing Glorfindel's hand, "we will die."

Glorfindel's hands were fisted at his sides as the tears dripped from his chin. "Turgon, you will leave me?" he asked pitifully.

Turgon shook his head. "No. I cannot do that." Hope sparked in the dark depths of Glorfindel's eyes. "But," Turgon continued, "you must tell me to go."

"No!" Glorfindel looked at Turgon as if he had gone mad. "Why would I tell you to go?"

"Because I cannot leave you." When Glorfindel continued to gaze at him in bewilderment, Turgon tried to explain what he felt. "With you, Glorfindel, I am all I could ever hope to be. At your side, in your bed, under your hands, I am made whole and complete because of you. But, I will not sleep in your bed any longer. I will not be your lover. I cannot, knowing that you once lay in Ecthelion's arms.

"My strength has always come from you. If I remain with you, what love I still feel for you will rot. It will refashion itself from something wonderful to something dark, something hurtful." Turgon cupped Glorfindel's wet cheek with his palm, a soft smile crossing his quivering lips. "I do not want to hate you. I do not want to leave you. And I do not have the strength to turn away from you. Do not become weak when I need you most, my love." Two more tears down their way down Turgon's cheek. "Valar help me," he said, his voice raw and unsteady with emotion, "I need this, Glorfindel; I am weak and you are the only one who has the strength to see it through."

Glorfindel closed his eyes, sputtering sounds coming from his tightly sealed lips. Turgon leaned in and kissed him softly, slowly. "I love you."

"I know," Glorfindel managed. He opened bright blue eyes still glistening with tears. "Leave, Turgon," he commanded, his voice trembling, but the determination could not be missed in his gaze. "Leave my bed, leave my side, leave my House. I release you and hold no ties with you save for..." Glorfindel faltered for a moment, but after a breath, he continued. "Save for friendship and fealty."

Turgon bowed, gathering his clothes. Under Glorfindel's glistening eyes, he dressed and left, the tears still streaking down his cheeks, and Glorfindel's last words burned into his memory for all time.

"And I will love you until all the stars fall from the sky, my King."